


Nesting

by Anna_Jay



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (or stealing clothes), Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Nesting, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, sleepy snakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 15:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19444162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Jay/pseuds/Anna_Jay
Summary: Aziraphale realizes he is missing a few items from his shop. Crowley definitely doesn't know anything about it.





	Nesting

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing for Good Omens and I wanted to write fluff.  
> (God I hope they are all in character)

It began when Aziraphale’s favorite sweater went missing.

It was perplexing. He remembered draping it over the back of his chair while he read, but now it was nowhere in sight. He scoured the bookshop and the sea of books, but the tartan sweater remained missing. He was deep in thought when the door chimed.

“Angel, are you in?” Crowley’s voice called out, putting Aziraphale’s search on hold. He had nearly forgotten he and Crowley were going to visit the new café that opened a few blocks away. It looked promising.

Aziraphale returned to the front of the shop where he found the demon lazily paging through one of the newer books. Crowley snapped it shut when Aziraphale approached. “Ah, there you are. Ready to go?”

Aziraphale smiled and followed the demon out. He put the missing sweater to the back of his mind and gave Crowley his full attention.

However, later that night and a few glasses of wine thoughts of the missing sweater swam back to the forefront of his light headed mind. He brought up his problem with Crowley.

“It’s the strangest thing. I swore I put it on the back of my chair while I was reading, but now it’s nowhere to be found.”

Crowley made noncommittal noise and downed his wine glass. “I’m sure it’ll turn up, angel.” He quickly refilled his glass and took another rather large drink. Aziraphale was too lost in his wine addled thoughts to notice Crowley’s odd behavior.

The next item to disappear was a decorative pillow from the couch in the study. Aziraphale didn’t sleep like Crowley, but sometimes at night he liked to put the pillow on his lap while he read. He recalled Crowley had kicked it off the couch on accident during an impromptu dance. They had been listening to a lively record, and Crowley insisted he couldn’t stay sitting. He tried to entice Aziraphale to join him, his snake eyes shiny and out of focused from all the wine, but the angel declined. He enjoyed watching the demon shimmy and shake around the book scattered room.

Aziraphale poked around the study, but the pillow was nowhere in sight. He would have continued searching, but he had agreed to meet with Crowley at St. James park. If he continued searching he would be late, and he hated to make Crowley wait.

In the end, Aziraphale was late, but Crowley was having too much fun laughing at the ducks as they fought over bread crumbs.

“Really, dear. We’ve been over this you cannot give the ducks bread. It’s not good for them.”

Crowley waved him off with a scoff. “Nothing a little divine intervention can’t prevent if one of the buggers kicks it.”

_Or demonic intervention._ Aziraphale thought, but kept to himself.

They watched the ducks a few moments more before taking a walk around the park. They walked in peace. They had known each other long enough to be comfortable in silence. Aziraphale enjoyed the scenery around him. Autumn may be his favorite time of year. He was always fond of the bright colors. The trees were beginning to change and bright oranges and yellows began to scatter amongst the green foliage. It was still warm out during the afternoon, but the nights were becoming chilly. The thought of the coming cold looped Aziraphale’s thoughts back to his newest missing item.

“Say, dear, you wouldn’t by any chance know what happened to the pillow I keep in the study?”

Crowley gave him a quizzical look. “What now?”

“You know, the one I keep on the couch you sometimes nap on.”

Crowley’s seemed to think it over before he shook his head. “No idea, sorry angel.”

“It’s alright, dear.” Aziraphale resisted the urge to sigh. Crowley was more drunk than he that night. He probably didn’t remember what happened.

Crowley stared at him a few more minutes before shrugging and continued walking. His posture seemed stiffer than usual.

The third item to go missing was an old blanket Aziraphale rarely used. He had stuffed it in a closet in the equally rarely used flat above the bookshop years ago. He only took it out once the chill settled in London and there simply was no better way to read a book than curled up in blankets with hot cocoa. With the colder weather settling in earlier this year, Aziraphale went to fetch the blanket only to find it not there. He dug around in the closet for a few moments before sighing.

“Now really,” he muttered to himself. “Where are you all running off to?”

He sighed again before heading downstairs to put the kettle on. He was half way through preparations when the front door slammed open and shut. The bells above his door rattled wildly followed by Crowley’s annoyed voice telling them to keep it down. Aziraphale had no time to act as a bundled up Crowley stormed past him and to the study.

“Crowley, what on—”

“It’sss freezing in here, angel.” Crowley hissed. He snapped his fingers and the fireplace became ablaze. The demon sprawled in front of it, his hands reaching out so close to the flames Aziraphale worried he might catch fire. “Damn this cold. Damn it all.”

“My dear, it hasn’t even started snowing yet.”

“Which means by the time it does bloody snow this cold will only get worse. Why do we live here, angel?”

Aziraphale held in a sigh and refrained from rolling his eyes. Crowley always got like this before the winter set in. The poor serpent couldn’t handle any dip in temperature. The angel silently went back into the kitchen and fetched the tea.

When he returned, Crowley was not as close to the fire as he had been before, but he still looked equally miserable. He handed Crowley his tea. The demon cupped his hands around it and sighed as the warmth spread through his hands. Aziraphale watched him before making a decision. He sat on the floor next to Crowley with his own tea and sat shoulder to shoulder with him. Crowley froze.

“Angel, what—”

“I would offer you a blanket, but unfortunately I’ve misplaced it.”

Crowley nearly dropped his cup. He sputtered as Aziraphale unfurled his wings and wrapped one around him. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I wouldn’t be a proper host if I let my guest be cold.” Aziraphale nudged closer to Crowley as he took a sip of his tea. “Drink up, dear, before it gets cold.”

Crowley blinked at him from behind his sunglasses. Eventually, he relaxed against Aziraphale and the two fell into comfortable silence.

The last to go missing was Crowley.

The snow had finally come to London, and the demon had not come by the bookshop in some time. Aziraphale tried to call him, but each time he only received the demon’s answering machine. It was both vexing and worrying. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, Aziraphale decided a quick visit to Crowley’s flat wouldn’t hurt.

As he predicted, the door was locked. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He waited a moment before he miracled the door open.

The was dark and quiet in the flat. Almost unnaturally so. Aziraphale crept through the halls and past the curious plants. When there was still no sign of Crowley, the angel moved to the closed bedroom door. He put an ear against the wood and listened. He heard the sounds of shifting fabric. He hesitated once before he opened the bedroom door. He paused, unsure of what he was seeing.

The bed was piled high with all sorts of blankets and pillows. There was no rhyme or reason to the patterns or the styles. It was all very out of character for Crowley, who prided himself on keeping up with the most in style fashions. He came closer to the bed in a daze, his mind trying to wrap around what he was seeing. The giant pile shifted and Crowley’s head popped up from the recesses of blankets. His fiery red hair sticking out in an unkept mess.

“Aziraphale?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. “What are you doing here?”

Aziraphale stumbled over his words, trying to apologize for barging into his home before he caught sight of something familiar.

“Is… is that my sweater?”

Crowley froze mid combing his fingers through his hair. The sweater was much to big, one shoulder slipping down to expose the demon’s skin, but there was no mistaking it as Aziraphale’s missing tartan sweater.

Aziraphale came closer to the bed and discovered the missing pillow and blanket were also part of Crowley’s pile.

“I was going to give them back, honessst. You never noticed when I took them the lassst time.”

“Last time?” Aziraphale sputtered.

Crowley seemed to shrink back into the pile of blankets, and Aziraphale realized what he was looking at.

“You never told me you nest during the winter.”

Crowley looked away, embarrassed. “I don’t. Not typically.”

The demon made a sad and lonely sight, and Aziraphale placed a comforting hand on Crowley’s shoulder.

“You could have simply asked, you know. I would let you borrow anything you like.”

Crowley frowned. “You know I can’t. What kind of demon would I be to asssk.” He cleared his throat. “Ask an angel for material for a nest. If the others found out—”

“Well, it’s a good thing we are on our own side now, isn’t it?” Aziraphale gently interrupted.

Crowley mumbled something under his breath before yawning. Aziraphale wondered if Crowley had been sleeping this entire time since he last saw him. With the snap of his fingers, he was wearing comfy pajamas and making room for himself in the nest.

Crowley, thrown for surprise, didn’t say anything as Aziraphale made himself comfortable. Aziraphale reached out to the unmoving Crowley and brought him into his arms. Seconds passed before Crowley brought his own arms up to pull the angel closer. He burrowed his nose into Aziraphale’s chest and sighed.

“Better than the pillow.” He said.

Aziraphale smiled and watched as Crowley fell back to sleep. He allowed himself to relax and slowly his eyes drifted shut. For the first time in a long time, Aziraphale slept.


End file.
